


Flow It, Show It

by GreyMichaela



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 22:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: It’s not a kink. Not really. It’s not a kink to want to run his fingers through Tyler’s hair, to close his fist around the curls and pull, just to watch Tyler’s eyes slip shut as he shudders.Tyler’s growing his hair out, and Jamie issuffering.





	Flow It, Show It

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Hair Anon and Spoodle Monkey, because they're dirty enablers.
> 
> RPF disclaimer, etc.
> 
> Title from Hair the musical, thanks to my beta who's hilarious

It’s not a kink. Not really. It’s not a kink to want to run his fingers through Tyler’s hair, to close his fist around the curls and pull, just to watch Tyler’s eyes slip shut as he shudders. 

Tyler’s growing his hair out, and Jamie is  _ suffering. _ Bad enough during games when he takes his helmet off and shakes it out of his eyes. It gets worse when he’s fresh out of the showers and it’s curling damply over his forehead in wild curls. Jamie has to clench his fists and turn away when Tyler’s talking to reporters, pretend to be focused on his own answers so he doesn’t grab a handful right then and there. His fingers  _ itch _ with the urge sometimes.

The pinnacle of torture is when Jamie comes over in the mornings and Tyler’s just rolled out of bed, sleepy-eyed and hair standing on end. Jamie wants to know if it’s as soft as it looks. Probably—Tyler uses expensive shampoo  _ and _ conditioner and he’s obsessive about haircare in general. Really, Jamie’s pretty sure he’s superhuman for resisting temptation as long as he has. 

 

He lets himself into Tyler’s house the day after a game, taking care to be quiet, but of course the dogs hear him and come scrambling down the hallway to greet him. Jamie drops to his knees and croons to them in a hushed voice, then slips their leashes on and takes them all out for a run.

When he comes back, he’s worked up a solid sweat and the dogs are panting and happy. They barrel into the house and make a beeline for their water bowls, and Jamie toes off his shoes to pad after them. It doesn’t take him long to decide on omelettes for breakfast, and he’s turning from the fridge with ingredients in his hands when he runs into Tyler, coming around the corner.

Jamie yelps and Tyler grabs his elbows to steady him. His eyes are drooping, hair in more of a state than ever, and he yawns as he lets go of Jamie’s arms and stumbles to the counter to drop onto a stool.

“Y’walked the dogs? Sweet.” He puts his head down on his arm, and Jamie frowns.

“You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tyler mumbles. His muscled forearm is stretched across the counter, head pillowed on his bicep, and Jamie sets the eggs down.

“That doesn’t happen often, right?”

Tyler doesn’t answer. 

Jamie bends to look into his face and realizes Tyler’s fallen asleep where he sits. He’s seized by a wash of affection and before he thinks better of it, he rests a hand on Tyler’s curls.

Tyler sighs and rubs his cheek against his arm.

Hardly breathing, Jamie strokes the curls that are even softer than he’d imagined. His blood heats at the thought of gripping them, but he keeps his touch gentle, rhythmic and soothing, and Tyler doesn’t wake.

When he does finally stir, Jamie’s at the stove stirring eggs. Tyler lifts his head, blinking, and rubs his eyes.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “I fall asleep?”

“Like a baby,” Jamie confirms, and slides a plate in front of him.

“Marry me,” Tyler moans, and dives into his food.

 

Jamie goes home and jerks off to the thought of his fingers in Tyler’s hair, toes curling with the force of it.

 

He thinks that’ll take the edge off, make it easier to deal with, but if anything, he’s thinking about it  _ more _ now. He’s hyper-attuned to Tyler taking his helmet off and shaking his head, drops of sweat flying, and sometimes he has to sit on his hands when Tyler slides onto the bench next to him. Erections in a cup are  _ not _ fun.

 

That’s bad enough, but then they’re flying home after an away game, and Tyler’s so worn out that he ends up slumping sideways until his head is on Jamie’s shoulder. His hair tickles Jamie’s cheek and Jamie wants to die. He sits very still, wondering if anyone can see them.

Probably not, he decides. They’re at the front of the plane and just about everyone is asleep, all the lights off.

Jamie takes a chance and brings his arm up until he can cup the back of Tyler’s head. Tyler makes a quiet, pleased noise but doesn’t move, and Jamie closes his eyes, feeling the springy curls wrapping themselves around his fingers, almost as if they have a life of their own.

He  _ wants. _

 

It becomes a thing, even though Jamie barely admits it even to himself. Tyler sleeps like a cat, whenever and wherever he can, and more often than not he seeks Jamie out to nap against, especially on the road. Jamie’s favorite is when Tyler curls up with a head on his thigh, because then Jamie can stroke the hair off his forehead while reading on his phone. It’s comforting and quiet, and it eases something inside Jamie that he didn’t realize was wound so tight.

Still, he wants more. He can admit that much to himself, even if he gets stuck there. He’s just not sure how to get it.

 

He’s on his couch, reading quietly, when Tyler comes over, slamming through the door in his usual careless hurricane. 

“Make yourself at home,” Jamie calls, more to be a dick than anything.

Tyler grunts something from the direction of the kitchen and then appears in the doorway with a beer in his hand. There are thunderclouds on his face, and Jamie arches his brows, faintly alarmed.

“Everything okay?”

Tyler flings himself on the couch beside him, somehow not spilling a drop of his beer. “Same old shit,” he mutters, and takes a swallow. Then he tilts sideways, stretching out so he can drop his head on Jamie’s thigh. “Got ambushed while I was grocery shopping by some asshole who thought he could get an exclusive for his blog.”

Jamie winces. “What’d you say?”

“Same thing I always do,” Tyler says. He heaves a sigh and sets the beer on the coffee table. “Just… tired of it.”

Without thinking about it, Jamie rests a hand on Tyler’s hair. He’s stroked it three or four times before he realizes what he’s doing and jerks away, horrified at himself.

Tyler makes a displeased noise. “Why’d you stop?”

Jamie hesitates, but there’s no tension in Tyler’s body, nothing giving off warning signs, so he tentatively touches him again.

“S’good,” Tyler murmurs, rubbing his cheek against Jamie’s thigh.

Greatly daring, Jamie threads his fingers through the curls. When he lifts his hand, it catches on a tangle and he accidentally pulls. Tyler’s moan freezes them both in place.

There’s a moment of crystalline silence and then Tyler clears his throat. “Um—”

Jamie doesn’t think about it. He closes his fist and tugs, and Tyler cuts off with a startled grunt.

“D-do that again,” he says.

Jamie isn’t breathing as he spreads his fingers, scratches gently down Tyler’s scalp, and then pulls again without warning.

Tyler’s whole body jolts and Jamie realizes with delight that he’s hard, dampness spreading across his crotch.

“Ty—” he says, his throat thick.

“I don’t want to talk,” Tyler interrupts, sitting up. His eyes are big and pleading, hair wild. “Please, Jamie, I need—can you make me stop  _ thinking _ for a few minutes?”

Jamie cups his cheek, stroking over the line of Tyler’s beard, and Tyler takes a shaky breath and turns his face into Jamie’s palm.

“On your knees,” Jamie says, and Tyler falls off the couch in his scramble to obey. It makes them both laugh but Jamie sobers quickly as Tyler gets on his knees, shuffling in between Jamie’s feet. He licks his lips and looks up, eyes hesitant. 

“Is this okay?”

Jamie cups his face again. “What do you need?”

“To stop thinking,” Tyler says immediately. “I’m tired of hearing about Lites and being hounded by everyone for comments, I can’t say what I  _ want _ to say and I feel like I’m going to  _ choke _ sometimes, it’s all so  _ much.” _

“And you want it from me?” Jamie says. 

Tyler gives him a look that doesn’t speak well of Jamie’s intelligence. “Who else?”

_ Almost anyone, _ Jamie doesn’t say. This is going to irrevocably change their relationship, and Jamie finds himself suddenly terrified. He can’t lose Tyler, can’t put what they are at risk. 

Tyler seems to get it, somehow. His eyes soften. “You’re my person, Jameson,” he says, mouth quirking wryly. “That’s never going away.” 

Jamie doesn’t deserve the trust Tyler places in him, but damn if he’s not going to earn it. He leans forward and Tyler goes up on his knees to meet him halfway. He tastes like beer, hops and sweet-sour tang that Jamie chases as Tyler pushes his tongue into Jamie’s mouth, hands on Jamie’s knees to balance himself.

Jamie’s too keyed up, too turned on to really sink into making out, as much as he loves exploring Tyler’s mouth, so it’s not long before he gently shoves Tyler back to his heels. He doesn’t miss the way Tyler’s eyes widen and his breath hitches.

“You like being pushed around?” Jamie asks.

Tyler licks his lips and nods, looking a little hesitant. 

“And your hair being pulled?”

Tyler closes his eyes in answer, fisting his hands on his thighs.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” Jamie says.

“I will,” Tyler says, opening his eyes again. They’re clear and bright, pupils blown with lust. “Please, Jamie—”

Emboldened, Jamie leans forward and slips his hand into Tyler’s hair again. He tugs lightly and Tyler shudders hard. 

“More,” he whispers.

Jamie can oblige. He pulls Tyler’s head to the side, not gentle this time, and holds him there with a steady hand, baring his long, lovely neck. Tyler is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, on his knees with his eyes closed and body limp in Jamie’s grasp, waiting for whatever Jamie decides to do to him. He’s utterly trusting, and it makes Jamie’s chest squeeze painfully. 

Instead of doing something immeasurably stupid, like blurting out how much he loves him, Jamie leans forward and latches onto Tyler’s neck. Tyler groans but doesn’t move as Jamie sucks a livid mark at the junction of his shoulder.

When he pulls back, Tyler’s breathing is unsteady but he says nothing. Jamie’s hand is still tight in his hair.

“How do you feel about biting?” Jamie asks.

_ “Please,” _ Tyler blurts. His head is cranked sideways and it can’t be comfortable, but he makes no effort to change position, offering himself up wholly.

Jamie scoots forward on the cushions until he’s on the edge of the couch and chooses his spot—the muscled part of Tyler’s shoulder where the mark will be hidden by his shirt. He licks the spot, tasting the salt of Tyler’s sweat, smelling his aftershave and deodorant. His head is spinning with arousal, but he pushes it down, forcing himself to focus as he licks his targeted area over and over, dragging his tongue over the silky skin until Tyler is squirming with impatience.

“Jamie, come on,” he mumbles, reaching up and cupping the back of Jamie’s neck. “Please, I want more—”

Finally, Jamie takes pity on him and opens his mouth, finding the most comfortable spot and sinking his teeth in, slowly and carefully.

Tyler grunts as Jamie increases the pressure but he doesn’t tell him to stop. If anything, his body gets even looser in Jamie’s hands. Encouraged, Jamie works the area, keeping his teeth in place but alternating the pressure, lighter and then heavier again. Tyler’s gone completely boneless in Jamie’s grip, breath harsh and rattling in his throat, when Jamie finally eases off and licks the area again to soothe the sting. He didn’t break the skin, but it’s going to bruise spectacularly, he can tell, and he feels a fierce rush of pride at the thought of the team seeing his mark on Tyler’s skin, his  _ claim. _

Tyler blinks, coherence returning slowly to his eyes. “Jamie—” he slurs.

Jamie cradles the nape of his neck briefly and then takes hold of his hair again. Tyler’s eyes close again, and Jamie reaches down between them to rub his cock where it’s straining against his pants. Tyler moans quietly and Jamie pulls his hair, first one way and then the other, not gently.

Tears gather in the corners of Tyler’s eyes but he stays pliant, hands loose in his lap, swaying with Jamie’s movements. Jamie reaches under the waistband and clasps Tyler’s cock, stroking off-rhythm with the pulls on Tyler’s hair.

It’s a handful of minutes before Tyler’s rolling his hips into it, whimpering deep in his chest. His eyes are still closed, a flush crawling up his chest, and Jamie loves him so much it hurts. He tightens his grip on Tyler’s cock and yanks hard on his hair at the same time and Tyler jerks soundlessly as he comes, back arching as he shakes through it.

Tenderness crowds Jamie’s throat as Tyler collapses forward into his arms and Jamie catches him. He’s a dead weight in Jamie’s arms, and Jamie kisses the crown of his head and stands up. It’s not easy, with 200 pounds of semi-conscious hockey player to support, but Jamie makes it to the bedroom and pours Tyler onto the bed. Then he pushes his pants off and straddles him. Tyler lifts one wavering hand and Jamie catches it as he grasps himself with the other.

“Wanted to do that for so long,” he rasps, lacing their fingers together. It’s not going to take long at all, he already knows. 

“Love you, Jamie,” Tyler whispers, and Jamie hunches over and comes, white splattering across Tyler’s rucked up shirt and over his abs.

“Fuck,  _ fuck,” _ he chokes, folding forward until he’s got an elbow braced on either side of Tyler’s head. “You can’t  _ say _ things like that, Ty.”

Tyler smiles, his eyes closed. “S’true. Gonna sleep now.”

Jamie kisses him, a quick brush of lips. “Okay, baby.”

He settles in next to him, drawing Tyler’s limp body into his arms. They’ll talk when he wakes up, but Jamie’s contentment is bone-deep. He falls asleep smiling, Tyler’s soft hair tickling his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have no excuse](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com)


End file.
